


Amour Courteois

by sansaofthemyscira



Series: Caught in War [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bad Poetry at the End, F/M, I wrote this instead of learning for my Middle High German Exam, It didn‘t take me 12 years to write a sequel guys!, No Proofreading We Die Like Men, Tourney at Lannisport, mentions of captivity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 17:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20361997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansaofthemyscira/pseuds/sansaofthemyscira
Summary: It’s the year 289 AC. After Greyjoy’s Rebellion and the Crown’s victory, Tywin Lannister holds a tourney in Lannisport.





	1. Jaime

**Author's Note:**

> The title means courtly love in French. How basic, i know.

Sansa barely speaks anymore. If she does, it is full of courtesy and distance. She does, however, dote on their two little sons, who in the short few months of her abduction, not once forgot to ask for their mother. Gerion and Harlon are the pride and joy of House Lannister, two beautiful healthy boys of age two. Gerion looks more Lannister as the future Lord of Casterly Rock, and Harlon looks like the spitting image of Brandon Stark, down to the grey eyes - but he has all of Jaime‘s brash temperament, even so young. And of course, his daughter, Joanna. He cried when Sansa decided on the name. The babe had just been born, and she was the most perfect, beautiful thing he ever saw.  
Jaime never thought he could love anybody more than Cersei - yet here he is. Sansa settled right into her heart and stole her spotlight. And though Jaime loves her, nothing compares to the love he has for his children and the hopes he holds for their futures. Even Tywin has some sort of peculiar love, especially with Gerion, who proves to be very much an intelligent boy, with eyes caught between Jaime‘s own and Sansa‘s.  
Since coming back from King‘s Landing to witness Victarion Greyjoy‘s execution. Jaime took his head himself, after Sansa‘s particularly gruesome nightmare the night before. She had screamed and woken up Maegor‘s Holdfast all on her own, until she‘d gripped Jaime‘s arms while he was trying to wake her up. „The man who passes the sentence should always swing the sword.“ Sansa collapsed back to slumber right after that and it still remains one of the few things she said to him without her very own brand of armour.  
Jaime understands trauma. She needs to find trust back, and a sense of security. She sleeps with their chamber doors locked, and with him by her side, as well as the children‘s guards doubled. Jaime‘s sword is always close to her, always visible. She began to ask her how to weild a dagger.  
The thing is: Jaime would sell all the riches of Casterly Rock for Sansa to feel safe again. She‘s his better half, the calming winter breeze for his temperament. She keeps him in check ane he makes her smile. It‘s been so the day they renewed their vows in front the weirwood tree. But she keeps him away, and if it is what she desires, he‘ll keep his distance.  
It will be difficult though, because his father is hosting a tourney in honour of their victory over the Ironborn. The royal household arrived, with Cersei, too, sulking she didn‘t get the lady‘s chamber though all know it‘s Genna who occupies them currently (it‘s been so since his lady mother‘s death). Sansa has been enduring both her awful remarks about her captivity as well as Robert‘s ill-times japes and lechery. Stoically, she endured, though when Robert asked her to sing in the feast the day before, she looked him defiantly in the eyes and sang Danny Flint. When asked why she chose such a sad song for a feast, father let the ministrels play the Rains of Castamere instead.

Jamie is getting ready in his tent before his first match up against a minor riverlord. He briefly saw Sansa before she ushered him out to get ready. Father comissioned the flower wreath to be of violets and white anemone - Jaime‘s wife is the reigning queen of love and beauty at the tourney, and Jaime intends to keep it that way. Because Sansa is beautiful, and she needs reminders of that. No scar on her back could ever convince Jaime otherwise. In his heavy gold pleated armour, he mounts his horse.  
His first round in the joust is against a minor riverlander knight. Jaime can see his wife in the stands sitting next to his father on the dias in the royal booth.  
She‘s magnificent. Sansa‘s wearing her hair down, the flower wreath delicately placed on her head. The dress matches the lilac and white of the flowers. Compared to her, everybody pales, even Cersei. As fresh faced as the maiden, lovely cream skin. There were once times the only marks on her skin where the once he left in passion. Her marred back haunts his nightmares more than the Mad King ever could. Sansa is smiling and Jaime passes through the court all thr way up to the booth, greeting King and Queen. Cersei looks positively mad, and well, Jaime doesn‘t care, not since he found out that Lucion was her bed companion ever since he left for the Kingsguard all those years ago. She has no right to demand loyalty, not since he vowed his life away to Sansa‘s. His honor is bound to her and their children.  
The reigning Queen of Love and Beauty takes the little embroided handkerchief she held in her hand and presses a slight kiss into it, before wrapping it around Jaime‘s goldwood lance. He can hear whispers. He is sure there will once be songs about this tourney. About the Lion who fought for his lady love. It would only be just, Jaime thinks, for Sansa only deserves beauty and happiness and good things. He pushes his visor up and gently takes her hand into the one he has not yet gauntled.  
„My lady wife“, he says, loud enough for all to hear, but closed off to the rest of the world that it would seem intimate. He‘s always been good at making people uncomfortable. „I hope I‘ll do your favor justice.“ He kisses her hand. The smile Sansa gives him is small, but real, and it‘s the only victory that matters.

At the end of the day Jaime faces off against Ser Barristan, knocks him out with ease. It brings a sort of grim satisfaction to unhorse the man who still looks at him as if he were the Stranger himself - hilariously ironic, considering the fact that Barristan himself failed to protect the family he swore to protect - and he was pardoned, serving now the murderers of said family. Jaime looks his shame straight into its face. Barristan keeps up a farce of being holier than thou, better. Under him, King‘s Landing would‘ve burned.  
The final tilts are to be held the following morrow, and Jaime doesn‘t know him. He‘s a northern lord, a knight to which Sansa had scoffed in her brilliantly vain pride of nothern customs. It had been one of the first real shows of emotion after her captivity. The man in question is a Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island, by all accounts a poor and distant island even for Northern standards. Robert the Fool knighted the man for his bravery, and brave he was, Jorah of Bear Island. But now he‘s fighting with a beauriful woman‘s favour knotted around his arm.  
The feast afterwards is brief, and Sansa and Jaime retire soon. Seated beside Cersei isn‘t an honour she wants, but she is the acting Lady of the Rock. She claims their children have need of her, which is only half true, so Jaime accompanies her the half hour it takes up to the Rock. The tourney doesn‘t start till later - their King likes to sleep in.  
Sansa became a formidable rider since their wedding. A proper saddle and riding gown did wonders for her. As swift as her sister had been, according to some northmen. Jaime is convinced that if she had the energy to lift a lance she could be a jouster rivaling him. There is a certain elegance to everything she does, a grace unmatched by most. How, of all people in the tourney, Jorah of Bear Island chose Lynesse Hightower, Jaime doesn‘t understand. With a woman like Sansa in attending? The whole world should bow.  
„What did you think of the joust, my lady wife?“ They rode in silence long enough.  
There is a smile, small, but true. Maybe today he broke through her shell.  
„You fought well, as I knew you would.“ There are hundreds of wreaths hanging dried in Sansa‘s solar. He hopes to add another. „I am surprised with Jorah Mormont, though. He isn‘t known to be a fighter.“  
„A woman‘s favour can be motivation.“ Sansa looks at him, raising an eyebrow. Jaime smirks, catlike.  
„Is it yours, husband?“ She laughs, when he nods. „Well, Lynesse Hightower is pretty.“  
„Pretty, perhaps. But you outshine even the stars this eve.“  
She laughs. A crystal clear laugh, ringing like bells. It is the sweetest music Jaime heard in a while. „Careful, husband, they might mistake you for a bard rather than a knight.“  
He cannot help but stretch out his smirk into a full grin. „A true knight is versed in all courtly skills.“ Jaime takes Sansa‘s right hand from the rein and puts a soft kiss on it. Despite her handywork as a skilled seasmtress and her frequent riding, they are as soft as ever. 

They break so many lances. Apparently, Lynesse Hightower must awake some new virility inside of Jorah Mormont, but Jaime is determined the next will be the last. His squire hands him a new one, goldwood like the last, and he intends to knock plain faced Mormont out of his horse and onto his arse. Sansa is on the edge of her seat, next to his father, and Jaime can see in the peripheral Jon Arryn whispering into the King‘s ear.  
He puts down his visor, waits for the signal, and charges on. His horse, a purebred destrier, shining black (named Nightfall by Tyrion, to match Sansa‘s shiney white palfrey Dawnbreaker) is fast, a horse fit for a Lannister. Everything in him screams for blood. Jaime‘s lance is positioned to perfection. He would not fail. There are few things that make Jaime truly feel alive: Fighting, making love, his children‘s laughter and Sansa‘s gentle smile. He can perhaps score all four things today, winning the joust, make his sons laugh when they notice their beautiful mother with the flower crown later the eve back in Casterly Rock, Sansa‘s smile when he kisses her hand. And perhaps, if he is lucky enough, he could make her feel beautiful tonight. It is hope.  
His lance hits Jorah Mormont square in the chest and he topples over. Jaime remains seated. The crowds around him errupts in cheers. He doesn‘t care. It‘s the same people who call him the Lion of Lannister to his face, but Kingslayer begind his back. He only cares about Sansa. Not even sparing Mormont a second glance, Jaime watches her. She‘s smiling, the same proud smile she had when Gerion at four years old managed to learn how to read or when Harlon showed her a silly dance, when Joanna laughs. He loves her, and their family.  
Robert proclaims him winner with the same wistful look in his eyes whener he looks at Sansa. The flower crown remains on his wife‘s head. Taking off her favor and his helmet, he gives her a rakish grin, before shaking his blonde curls which were stuck due to grime and sweat.  
„My queen of love and beauty“, he says, „I hope I did your favour well.“  
Sansa stands up and reaches forward with her right arm. Jaime kisses her hand and gives her favour back. There‘s cheers and calls for bolder displays of affection, but Jaime knows it would make Sansa uncomfortable. Her hand is as soft as a rosepetal, and her arms sparkle in the afternoon sun. They‘re like sapphires, more striking even than her hair. „Thank you, Jaime“, she whispers. He can‘t help but smile.


	2. The Bards of Lannisport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lion and His Lady Love
> 
> Dating from 289 AC.  
Subject: Lord Jaime Lannister winning the Tourney at Lannisport, held in the name of the victory of the Crown during Greyjoy‘s Rebellion. He defended his wife‘s title as reigning Queen of Love and Beauty.  
Written by: Anonymous. Possibly a number of bards, over the years.

The proud lion with his golden mane  
Loved a maid with copper hair  
He said to her: „Oh maiden fair!  
Love me back and spare me all pain!“

The maiden who hath eyes like ice  
Said to him: „Oh lion proud!  
Win the crown, appease the crowd,  
My love comes always with a price.“

So the Lion fought hard and brave  
Against bats and birds and even boars,  
Unkocked many a knight from his horse  
He would‘ve fought til came his grave

Until at last there was left but one feat  
Fight and win against a strong bear  
Who too loved a maiden so fair  
But one with hair honey-sweet

So fought the two in an unusual dance  
The bear was stronger, but the lion was lithe  
The crowds watching would squirm and writhe  
As lion and bear would circle and prance

The lion’s last blow did not miss  
The bear fell deafeated to the ground  
To his lady love the lion went down  
And said: „I won, my love, you owe me a kiss.“

The proud lion with his golden mane  
Who earned a kiss of a maid so fair  
With copper in her sunlit hair  
Rode off with her into the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one very bad poem and i am SO GLAD i‘m not a medieval bard.
> 
> See you in 2 years, i guess


End file.
